


The Bond

by DizzyDrea



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Gen, Pre-Slash, Soul Bond, Trope Bingo Round 6, boys being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6707068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick could feel himself going off the rails, but he didn't know what to do about it. Then Sean offered to bond with him—to offer himself as an anchor—to keep Nick human. But that's only the start of the journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bond

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a long time coming. I had the idea several years ago. I got as far as outlining it, and then just stalled. I knew it was going to be long, and at the time that just made me tired to think about it. But when I got my Trope Bingo card this year, the soul bond square seemed to just be shouting out for this story. So, I buckled down and wrote it. Finally. There's a bit of French in here; if I've done it right, all you have to do is hover over the text to see the translation. See the end notes for a few bits and pieces about the story. And I've marked this as gen because it's mostly pre-slash, with very little in the way of romance. Because that's just how these boys roll.
> 
> ETA: Spoilers through 4.7 _The Grimm Who Stole Christmas_. I've completely ignored the whole Juliette-becomes-a-hexenbiest story. I'm also moving up the timetable when Wu gets let in on the whole Grimm thing. I think those are the only major changes, but if I think of any more, I'll add them here. :)
> 
> For the _Soul Bonding/Soulmates_ square on my Trope Bingo card.
> 
> Disclaimer: Grimm is the property of NBC, Universal Television, GK Productions, Hazy Mills Productions, Open 4 Business Productions LLC and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

"So the guy leans over and pukes on Wu's shoes instead," Hank said, barely able to contain the laughter fighting it's way out. "So Wu just looks at him, raises an eyebrow and says, 'I see you had the Veal. I'd have gone with Prime Rib, myself.'"

Nick couldn't take it anymore. He burst out laughing, remembering vividly their Sergeant's face when the perp had unloaded all over his shoes, his pants and the sidewalk. Meanwhile, Captain Renard had stood just a foot away, completely untouched after warning their suspect he'd be smart to avoid soiling Renard's Italian leather shoes.

"Oh man," Monroe said, shaking his head. He tilted his beer bottle back, only to grimace and set it down on the coffee table instead. "Way to ruin a perfectly good beer."

Rosalee sat beside him on the couch, her shoulders shaking as she laughed into her own beer. "I'm actually impressed the guy had enough presence of mind to miss the Captain."

"If you'd seen the look on his face, you'd have missed his shoes, too," Nick said, shaking his head.

"Sounds like you two have been getting along better, anyway," Monroe said.

Nick rolled his eyes. As segues went, it wasn't very smooth, but he couldn't deny the truth of the words. "Yeah, we're doing alright, I guess."

The two men had finally called a truce, realizing that the overt hostility between them wasn't helping them do their jobs. The fact that the hostility had been mostly Nick's was not lost on him, but it had taken some time for him to come to terms with the fact that his Captain was deeply involved in his life as a Grimm, whether he wanted him to be or not. 

Add to that the fact that Juliette had left, and he'd been one big ball of hostile energy. Most people had taken to giving him a wide berth. No one knew what to say to him, and the last thing he wanted to hear anyone say was that it was probably for the best. Or that he'd get over her and find someone new. After everything that had happened, he wasn't sure he even wanted to get involved again.

Juliette had helped him get his Grimm powers back, but then she'd left Portland, left Oregon, left the West Coast entirely, saying she couldn't take the stress and danger anymore. Despite the fact that her family was in Los Angeles, she'd moved to upstate New York, which was just about as far from Nick and all things Grimm as she could get.

The worst of it was that he couldn't blame her. He'd asked for all this, after all. She never had, and it had robbed her of the life she'd thought she'd have. Letting her go was the only thing he could do, really, no matter how much it hurt.

"So, now that Juliette's out of the picture, are you going to bond with the Prince?"

Nick just about choked on his beer. "What?"

"Monroe!" Rosalee said, her expression what Nick could only term as scandalized.

"I mean, it's a good bet your mother was bonded to your father," Monroe said, clearly warming up to his subject. "I'd bet good money that's why your Aunt was such a nightmare: no Bond."

"I don't even—bond?" Nick said, shaking his head. "What are you talking about?"

Monroe took a sip of his previously-abandoned beer. "Wait, you don't know?"

"What are you talking about Monroe?" Nick asked again. "What 'Bond'?"

Monroe and Rosalee shared a look; Monroe shrugged, clearly of the opinion that the cat was already out of the bag, while Rosalee frowned, but in the end simply sat back and waved her hand as if to tell him to get on with it.

"Okay, so back in the good old days, most Grimms served a Royal House. Kind of like a Knight in service to the crown."

"Yeah, I've gathered that," Nick said. "What's that got to do with—"

Monroe held up a finger. "I'm getting there. So anyway, most royal families had at least two children, sometimes more. 'An heir and a spare' is the commonly accepted term. Mostly it had to do with infant mortality rates and such. Anyway, it was convenient for other reasons too."

"I'm not gonna like where this is going, am I?" Nick asked.

"Depends," Monroe said. "If you're thinking that the youngest child of the royal family bonded to the Grimm, then maybe. Or maybe not."

"What do you mean 'bonded'?" Nick asked.

"A bonding is sort-of a connection," Rosalee said, taking up the narrative. "It's a spell that's cast between two people. The idea was to keep the Grimm from going rogue—essentially going feral and killing Wesen indiscriminately—and to bind the Grimm to the House for the length of his or her service. It was intended to be a beneficial arrangement for everyone involved."

"Doesn't sound too beneficial to be under the Royals' thumb," Hank muttered.

"The Grimm still maintained their autonomy, even though they were bonded to the Royal," Monroe said. "It was more like they were trying to prevent the Grimm from going off the rails, and this was the best way to do it."

"Once the Bond was in place, the Royal was, for all intents and purposes, free from the responsibilities of the Royal House," Rosalee said. "His or her only job was to provide the Grimm with an anchor."

"An anchor to what?" Nick asked.

Rosalee raised an eyebrow, as if this should have been obvious. "To his humanity." 

"And you're saying you think Nick's mom had a Bond like that?" Hank asked.

"Probably," Monroe said, releasing a breath. "She's viewed as a much more rational Grimm than Marie Kessler ever was."

"It actually makes a certain amount of sense," Nick said. At the three disbelieving looks cast his way, he shrugged. "Farley Kolt."

"He said she broke up with him when your mom died, didn't he?" Hank asked.

"Yeah," Nick said, sighing. "And he wasn't too happy about it, even all those years later. I don't know if a wesen would have been able to bond with her, but I get the feeling he'd have stayed with her if she'd let him."

Silence fell on the group as Nick digested what he'd been told. He wasn't surprised that there wasn't anything on this in the books in Aunt Marie's trailer. It simply wouldn't be smart to write anything down that might give the wesen insight into how the Grimm worked, just in case the trailer found its way into the wrong hands. But, not for the first time, he found himself wishing that Marie had taken the time to educate him about the world he'd stepped into. 

"You should really talk to the Prince about all this," Rosalee said, breaking the quiet.

"He can't be my only choice," Nick said. "I mean, my father wasn't Royal. If my parents really were bonded, then that means it doesn’t have to be a Royal."

"Got some hot chicks lined up outside, have you?" Monroe said, pinning Nick with his glare.

Nick let out a deep sigh. "No."

He hadn't been out on a date since Juliette had left, and that had been close to a year ago now. The only people he felt even remotely close to were in this room, and he wouldn't—couldn't—bond with any of them, for obvious reasons.

"So, what are you going to do?" Hank asked.

"I'm going to have another beer," Nick said, rising. He glanced around the room at his friends. "And I'm going to think about this. But I'm not making any promises."

Monroe, Hank and Rosalee shared a knowing look. Nick just hung his head. Who was he kidding? If there was even a chance he'd turn out like Marie, he'd do whatever it took to keep that from happening.

Even, apparently, bonding with his boss.

~o~

Two weeks had gone by and Nick was no closer to a decision than he'd been when Monroe had first brought it up. He'd gone around in circles in his own mind, unable to come to a firm decision. 

Now, he sat at his desk in the mostly-empty precinct, staring at the closed door to his Captain's office, the light glowing faintly through the closed blinds, debating with himself once more.

On the one hand, he had no desire to wind up the stuff of wesen nightmares like his aunt had done. If he had the means to prevent that, didn't he have an obligation to the wesen community he'd sworn to protect to use everything at his disposal to remain as he was? But to bond to a man he barely knew, and trusted even less, seemed like a colossally bad idea. 

Memories of his last conversation with Juliette were still fresh in his mind, even a year later. Her words had cut him to the bone, but he understood. She hadn't trusted him, in the end. He'd lied to her, withheld a large part of his life until it had impacted hers to the point of imminent danger, and still he'd kept it all back. 

Given that, was what Renard had done any better? Lying and plotting and subtly directing events from behind the scenes so that Nick had no idea that one of the most powerful wesen in all of Portland was on the other side of the office door. He was less resentful now than he'd been when he'd first found out, and he and the Captain had come to an understanding of a sort, but he wasn't sure he'd ever really trust the man.

Still, he understood the reality of the situation. He'd sworn an oath to protect and serve, and even if his Grimm side hadn't sworn that same oath, it rode along with him on every case. He had a duty to make sure that both sides of his life worked together to protect the citizens of Portland—both wesen and human alike. And wasn't that the bottom line, after all?

Nick took a deep breath. Looked like he'd made a decision after all.

He stood up and headed for the door to the Captain's office, receiving a soft _Come_ when he rapped on the frame.

He slipped through the door, latching it quietly behind him. He could see Renard sitting behind his desk, the light from the lone lamp casting a soft glow around the desk but only barely touching the office beyond.

"Nick," Renard said, looking up from the paperwork spread across his desk. "I thought you'd gone home."

"I was just finishing up some paperwork," Nick said, hoping that the Captain couldn't spot the lie in those words.

"What can I do for you?" Renard said. He dropped his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands and looking as though he had all the time in the world.

Nick edged further into the room, stopping beside the desk to lean a hip on it, tucking his hands into his pockets. He stared at the floor, unable to meet the other man's eyes as he spoke.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he said quietly. "About bonding."

When Nick looked up, it was to see Renard staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. "I see. Who—Monroe, of course."

"Yeah," Nick said, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. If Renard wasn't getting angry or throwing him out of his office—both scenarios Nick had considered viable—then maybe there was a chance he'd be reasonable. "He mentioned it recently. Said it was something I should consider."

"And have you?" Renard asked. "Considered it?"

Nick shrugged. "I have. I'm not sure it's what I want, but I don't want to turn out like my aunt, either."

"Nick, I don't mean to question you, but have you really thought this through?" Renard asked, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the desk. "This is a deep, intense connection we're talking about. It'll mean spending a lot of time together, something I'm not sure you're prepared to do."

"Intense?" Nick asked. Monroe hadn't mentioned that.

Renard raised an eyebrow. "Just how much do you know about bonds?"

"Not much," Nick admitted on a shrug. "Just what Monroe and Rosalee told me. Something about a connection and a spell."

Renard leaned back, expelling a breath. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"Of course it is," Nick said, because nothing in his life could ever possibly be simple. "So, what don't I know?"

Renard appeared to consider him for a long moment. "How about we take this somewhere more private. Have you eaten yet?"

Nick stilled. When had he eaten last? "You know, I don't even remember the last thing I ate. Maybe toast with my coffee this morning?"

"Well, then," Renard said. "Why don't you pick us up some food and meet me at my house. We'll talk there, say in an hour."

"Okay," Nick said, nodding. He took a deep breath. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me until you hear what I have to say," Renard said as he went back to his paperwork, sorting through pages and tucking some into the folders scattered across his desk.

Nick knew a dismissal when he heard one, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that he'd be getting some answers soon. He nodded, though he knew Renard couldn't see, and let himself out of the office, breathing a huge sigh once he was on the other side.

~o~

As soon as the door shut behind Nick, Sean dropped back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh. He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. He hadn't expected to be as rattled by that conversation as he'd been. It wasn't that he hadn't expected it, more that he hadn't expected to feel—

Exactly what did he feel? Nick clearly had no idea what he was asking, so any elation he might have felt at being asked was tempered with the knowledge that he might change his mind once he knew what was involved, and Sean wasn't sure what he'd do if that happened.

But, he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to be prepared for any eventuality, so a phone call was in order. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a burner phone and flipped it open, dialing a number from memory.

A familiar, lilting voice carried down the line. "Allo?"

Sean smiled. "Maman. Comment ça va?"

"Sean!" His mother exclaimed. "Ça va bien. Et tu?"

"Ça va," Sean replied.

"You don't sound fine," Elizabeth said, concern edging her tone. "What's wrong?"

"I had an interesting visitor this evening," Sean said, sighing.

"Oh? She asked. "And who was this interesting visitor?"

"The Grimm."

Silence ran down the line for a few heartbeats. "And he came to talk about—"

"Yes, he did," Sean said.

"Well, you knew it would happen sooner or later," his mother said. "How did he find out about it? I thought you said his aunt died before she could explain things to him."

"She did," Sean said. "His Wesen friends clued him in."

"How did they know?" She asked. "Bonding is unheard of in the New World."

"Monroe—the _blutbad_ —has family in Europe. It's my understanding he brought it up as a viable option."

"Well, regardless of who told him, at least he's open to the possibility now."

Sean sighed. "He doesn't know what he's asking, Mother. When I asked him if he knew what bonding is, he mumbled something about a connection and a spell. It was clear he had no idea what's truly involved."

"Well, then," his mother said. "You'll have to explain it to him. I don't envy you that conversation."

"Thank you, Mother," Sean said, snorting. "In the event he decides to go through with it, even after he learns what a true bonding is, I'll need the ingredients for the zaubertrank."

"Of course, darling," she said. "Have you got a pen and paper?"

Sean pulled a pad towards him and picked up his pen.

~o~

Two hours later, they were scooping the last of the Chinese food out of the containers. They'd spoken very little as they ate, sticking to lighter topics of conversation. If by lighter, one meant a tour of some of their most recent cases, as well as updates on some of Nick's upcoming court appearances.

Sean polished off the last of his beer, casting a glance at Nick as he did so. He'd grown more fidgety as the minutes had ticked past, but Sean could hardly blame him. Bonding was common knowledge among Grimms in the Old World, but virtually unknown in the New World. Nick had no idea what to expect from this conversation, and was most likely imagining the worst.

"Are you finished?" Sean asked as he stood up.

"Yeah," Nick said on a sigh. 

Working together, they disposed of the take-out boxes. Sean pulled two more beers out of the fridge and settled at the other end of the couch from Nick.

"So," Nick said, picking at the label on his beer, studiously avoiding Sean's eyes.

"So," Sean said, taking a deep breath. "Bonding. It's a little more complicated than Monroe made it seem."

"How much more complicated?" Nick asked. 

He finally raised his eyes, which Sean considered a minor victory. At least he wasn't talking to the top of Nick's head anymore.

"Monroe was correct that the Bond is a connection," Sean said. "The Bond knits two souls together. Depending on how compatible the two people are, the possibility exists that the pair can share thoughts and feelings."

Nick's eyebrows raced for his hairline. "Is it permanent?"

"Only if it's consummated," Sean said. "Otherwise, it remains a surface Bond only."

"So, it can be broken," Nick said. "That doesn't make much sense. If I need this anchor, why make it possible for me to get out of it?"

It was Sean's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Yes, I suppose this is an anchor, of a sort, in that it allows the bonded partner to sense when the Grimm is losing control, and help him regain it. As for the rest, would you really want to be tied to me if you fall in love with someone else?"

"Probably not," Nick said. "But I got the sense from Monroe that you were my best option."

"There was a reason the Grimm was bonded to the youngest Royal," Sean said, leaning back and sipping from his beer. "Royals are natural leaders, men and women of strength and character." Nick's snort was inelegant, but apt. "That isn't the case in the modern age, of course, as you know. But the Bond also gave the Grimm a connection to the Royal House, in effect legitimizing his or her position in the community. And while it's possible to break it, most of the time the Bond was consummated before that ever became necessary."

Nick appeared to consider that for a moment. "So, if we do go through with this, what's involved?"

"We'll have to take a zaubertrank, and recite the vows," Sean said. "And we'd have to spend several days with each other, to let the Bond settle. Going forward, we'd need to spend two or three nights a week together, so that the Bond remains settled and strong."

"Together, as in...?"

"Together, as in sleeping—just sleeping—in the same bed," Sean said.

"And after, you'll be able to read my mind?"

Sean could see that the idea made Nick uncomfortable, and he really couldn't blame him. There would be no secrets between them, and for men who weren't accustomed to trusting each other, it would be a challenge.

"At a minimum, I'll be able to sense your emotional state," Sean said. "It will allow me to help keep you from—"

"Going off the rails," Nick said. "Like my aunt did."

Sean inclined his head in agreement. The less said about Marie Kessler, the better, in his opinion. "There's one more thing."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Of course there is."

"In order for this to work, we'll need to spend some time talking through our issues. The Bond won't form unless we're in accord with each other."

"That's gonna be a problem," Nick said. "I haven't always agreed with the decisions you've made, and I can't see that changing."

"And I don't expect you to agree with my decisions, Nick," Sean said. "Nor is that required for the Bond to form. What we need to do is come to an understanding about our past experiences and our roles in what's happened between us. You don't need to agree with me, only understand why I've done the things I've done."

"A distinction without a difference," Nick said, frowning.

Sean shrugged. "Perhaps."

Nick sat quietly for a few moments, and Sean allowed him the privacy of his thoughts. It was a lot to take in, and not something to be done on a whim. Even though it was breakable, for as long as they were bonded they'd be connected to each other, able to sense each other's emotions, and potentially each other's thoughts.

Nick sighed and glanced over at Sean. "This isn't something I can decide right now."

"Nor am I asking you to," Sean said. "Take as much time as you need."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Ask me anything," Sean said.

Nick seemed surprised by that. "Why are you doing this? I mean, this isn't the Old World, and your family is thousands of miles away. This could cause problems at work, not to mention the gross invasion of privacy it'll be. Why do it at all?"

Sean took a deep breath, careful to meet his Grimm's eyes as he spoke. "I wish I could say it's my obligation as a Royal, but that's not it. Portland is safer for wesen and humans alike with you as the Grimm. But even if that weren't true, I have no desire to see you become the stuff of nightmares. You're a good man, Nick Burkhardt. I'd like to keep you that way."

There didn't seem to be anything more to say, so Nick quietly took his leave.

Sean stood up and wandered over to the windows, staring out at his city as he thought about the ways in which his life could change if Nick decided he wanted to go through with the Bond.

~o~

The day had started early—a dead body at a gas station in an older part of town—and no amount of coffee had improved it. Nick and Hank had spent the morning chasing leads to no avail. They'd been able to identify their victim; he still had his wallet with all his ID on him when he'd expired, but that was their only saving grace.

They'd talked to the man's boss—the principle of the local elementary school, where one Dave Brent worked as a custodian—but that had lead exactly nowhere. Everyone at the school, it seemed, liked Mr. Dave. Ditto the neighbors in the apartment complex where he lived. He was a nice man, but quiet and private. No one seemed to know much about him, other than that he kept regular hours and paid his rent on time. 

Nick had noticed that every one of them had been reluctant to talk to them, their eyes darting back and forth as if looking for the exit. He'd seen a couple of them woge, but he'd kept his eyes averted in the hopes that they wouldn’t recognize him. One or two had still figured it out, and so they'd had to endure the predictable freak-out anyway. The neighbors had remained stubbornly unhelpful, though, which sent Nick's blood pressure soaring.

One of the neighbors had finally mentioned that Brent liked to have dinner a few nights a week at a diner around the corner from his apartment, so Nick and Hank had headed there after they'd finished their interviews.

"Nice place," Hank said as they pushed through the door. 

It was a typical diner, with booths lined up under the windows and a long counter in front of the kitchen. All very 1950's with vinyl upholstery and Formica countertops. Nostalgia personified.

The bell above their heads tinkled as they entered, and several heads turned their direction before returning to their meals. "Quiet. I can see why Brent liked it here."

A waitress in a blue dress with a white apron approached them. Her nametag pronounced her as Judy. Nick put on his most charming smile and flashed his badge.

"Judy. I'm Detective Nick Burkhardt and this is my partner Hank Griffin," Nick said. "We need to talk to anyone who knew Dave Brent."

Judy paled. "Oh my god, has something happened to him?"

Nick glanced at Hank, but it appeared his partner was just going to let him lead. He'd been doing it all day, since it became apparent early on that Brent was wesen and Nick was their resident wesen-whisperer. Even when they were freaking out.

Nick was heartily sick of it.

"I'm afraid Mr. Brent was killed early this morning," Nick said in as gentle a manner as he could muster, given his frustration levels were reaching epic proportions.

Judy paled even further, dropping her eyes and covering the sob trying to break free with a hand to her mouth. For just a moment, Nick saw the flicker of a _feldhase_ before she got the woge under control. Given that their victim was a _maushertz_ , it didn't surprise Nick at all that he'd gravitated to a diner staffed by wesen.

"Let's take this outside," Hank said quietly. He guided an unresisting Judy out the door, turning the corner to stand just inside the alley next to the diner. "Now, can you tell us if Mr. Brent was having any trouble with anyone? Any enemies? Anyone he owed money to?"

Judy shook her head. "No! Dave was a good guy. I mean, he was a janitor. He liked his job, liked the kids. And they liked him, from what he said."

"Maybe he liked one of the kids too much?" Nick asked. It made his stomach turn to even think about it, and a search of his apartment hadn't turned up a propensity for child porn, but the techs had his laptop; if he was savvy at all, he'd have stashed his collection on his hard drive where they'd have trouble finding it.

"No!" Judy said, shaking her head vehemently. "It wasn't like that. God, I know you're just doing your job, but he wasn't like that, I swear."

"Well, something got him killed," Nick said harshly. Hank gave him a weird look, but he just ignored it and pressed on. "If you know something, Judy, you need to tell us. We can't help him unless we know everything."

"Help him?" Judy said, looking up with eyes flashing with fury. "He's dead! He doesn't need your help anymore. You had your chance, when he first—"

Nick could feel his fury rising with each word, but he was powerless to stop it. His hand inched toward his gun without conscious thought. And then Judy's eyes widened and she went full woge. 

"Jesus, you're him, aren't you?" she asked, suddenly more afraid than angry.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Nick said. Which was, if not a total lie then at least a partial one, what with his hand resting on the butt of his gun and all. Even Hank was looking at him like he was crazy.

Nick knew he was making things worse, just by being there, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, both Hank and Judy were staring at him, Judy still wary and Hank full of concern.

"I'll wait for you at the car," Nick said through clenched teeth.

He didn't even wait for an answer, just spun on his heel and stalked off.

When Hank rounded the corner a few minutes later, Nick was leaning against the car, staring at his boots as if they held the answers to life, the universe and everything. Hank didn't say anything, just unlocked the car and got inside.

Nick appreciated that he wasn't asking questions, because it wasn't like Nick had any answers. Or at least, any answers he wanted to share with the class. Still, Hank's raised eyebrow spoke volumes all on its own.

Nick sighed, turning away from the too-knowing look Hank was directing at him. "I know," he said quietly, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning his forehead against the window. "I know."

~o~

Hours later, Nick stood at his desk, palms pressed into the surface, staring at the paperwork spread before him but not really seeing anything. Hank had managed to get a name out of Judy-the-waitress, and a background check had found nothing good. Their primary—and currently, only—suspect was a gang of toughs lead by a _skalengek_ of questionable reputation by the name of Tommy Glasser.

But that was about all they had, because Tommy was in the wind, and no one was talking.

Nick hung his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. He knew where all the frustration and impatience was coming from, and he knew there was something he could do about it, but he was still stubbornly avoiding the subject. He refused to believe that the only option for putting the brakes on this rising hostility towards wesen was to bond with a man he barely knew and trusted even less.

And yet, there was no way he wanted to become the monster that most wesen had come to fear.

And to top it all off, he'd been feeling like he was being watched, ever since they'd gotten back to the precinct. Which was silly, because there'd been people all around them all afternoon. Of course people were watching him; it was sort of inevitable, considering his desk was in the middle of the room.

"Nick."

He didn't jump at the sound of his name, but it was close. He might have flinched. He took a deep breath before he turned around, because he knew exactly who that voice belonged to, and he wasn't sure he wanted to talk to the man. Outside of work conversations, they'd barely spoken ten words since the night they talked about the Bond.

But there was no avoiding him at this point. He couldn't claim he hadn't heard the man call his name. Instead, he turned around and crossed his arms. "Captain."

Renard narrowed his eyes. Nick knew what he was seeing: a man nearing the end of his rope, tired, stressed. 

"Come into my office," Renard said. He turned around and headed back to his desk without giving Nick the chance to decline. Bastard.

Nick sighed and followed his boss into the office, closing the door behind him. Even if they were the only two people left, he still didn't want anyone overhearing their conversation.

Renard pulled a bottle and two tumblers out of a desk drawer, pouring a measure of amber liquid into each before handing one to Nick. The Captain settled into his chair, leaning back and sipping at his drink. Nick sat in one of the guest chairs and took a rather larger sip than he probably should have, feeling the burn all the way down.

"Are you okay, Nick?" Renard asked when the silence had dragged on for several minutes.

Nick took a deep breath and stared into his drink. "I wish I could say I was fine, but I think we both know I'm not. I almost shot a _feldhase_ today. And every day that goes by, I can feel it getting worse."

"I'm sorry," Renard said. "I wish there was something more I could do to help."

"I think we both know there's only one thing you can do," Nick said. He raised his head, finally looking Renard in they eye. "And I think it's about time I stop deluding myself into thinking I can magically avoid turning into a monster."

"I don't want to force you into something you don't want to do," Renard said quietly.

"I know," Nick said. "And I appreciate that you haven't been pressuring me." He took another sip of his drink. "You know, my aunt called this our family's curse. I'm beginning to think she was right."

"You do a lot of good, being the Grimm you are," Renard said. "Don't lose sight of the fact that you're changing who the Grimm are. That the Grimm no longer need to be the stuff of nightmares. That's something precious. Definitely not a curse."

Nick took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he'd call it precious, but he'd made the choice to regain his Grimm powers after Adalind's little stunt. That was no small thing; he was in this now, for better or worse.

"So, how do we do this?"

Renard's expression went from surprised to cautiously pleased, and back to guarded, almost too fast for Nick to catch. "Come over this weekend. We can talk, start to clear the air between us."

"Right," Nick said. That was probably the last thing he wanted to do, but he had no choice. Standing up, he downed the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass on the Captain's desk. He hitched his hands on his waist and licked his lips, chasing the last of the whiskey. "Friday night?"

"Bring a bag; stay for the weekend," Renard said, standing up to face Nick. "I'll cook."

Nick felt surprise flash through him at the idea that his boss—the police Captain with the expensive house, finely tailored suits and elegant demeanor—would even know how to turn on the oven.

"And before you ask, yes, I can cook."

Nick gave a rueful grin. Apparently, he could also add psychic to that list. "I'll see you this weekend, then."

He turned and fled the office, not giving Renard time to answer.

~o~

Dinner Friday night had been a stir fry. Sean had been amused to find Nick sitting at the kitchen bar, watching him work after he'd prowled around the space, examining every painting, knick-knack and book on every surface in the room. He understood the impulse, and far from being bothered by it, he found it... comforting. As if Nick were trying to understand him by investigating his home.

Now, though, they were settled on the couch, sipping at more of the microbrew they'd had with dinner. Sean was waiting for Nick to start asking questions, but Nick remained stubbornly silent. Sean wasn't going to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, and he didn't really have any questions for Nick; the Grimm had always been something of an open book, and Sean had—If not spies, then at least people willing to keep an eye on his detective—so he knew what Nick had been up to and why.

Nick sighed and leaned forward, the bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips. "I guess I really only have one question." He looked up, spearing Sean with his penetrating gaze. "Why did you have my aunt killed? She was sick; the cancer was going to kill her sooner than later. Why'd you do it?"

Sean took a deep breath. He'd known this would be Nick's question. He was prepared for whatever came next, but that didn't mean he wasn't apprehensive about how Nick would react. 

"I'd like to say it was judgement passed and sentence executed for the crimes she'd committed against wesen," Sean began, "or even that she'd challenged my authority when she crossed into my canton without my permission.

"But the truth is that I ordered her death because I didn't want her spreading her taint to you. You're fair and unbiased, and you see the person under the creature; there hasn't been a Grimm like that in a hundred years. If you were going to make your home in Portland, I wanted you to be a better kind of Grimm than your aunt. That wouldn't happen if she taught you to be what she is."

"The Marie Kessler I knew wasn't like that," Nick said, sitting back on the couch, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling, as if that was exactly the answer he was expecting. "She was a librarian. I mean, we moved around a lot when I was a kid, and knowing what I know now makes some of my childhood make a lot more sense. But she was just my aunt, you know?"

"I do know," Sean said. "Believe it or not, I understand all about people choosing which mask to wear, depending on who they're with."

Nick sighed, taking another sip from his bottle. "She told me, just after she was attacked, that I had to hunt the bad ones. After Monroe explained to me who my aunt really was, I had to wonder if she really meant for me hunt down all wesen, not just the ones that commit crimes."

"Time has a way of changing what we believe to be true," Sean offered. "It's possible she regretted the person she became and wanted you to be different. Perhaps that's why she stayed away and didn't explain about being a Grimm."

"You knew? About all that?" Nick asked, head popping up.

Sean raised an eyebrow. "You didn't expect me to tolerate a Grimm in my territory and not do my due diligence, did you?"

"No, I guess not," Nick said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sean wasn't stupid enough to think the topic was closed, more that Nick was regrouping, reorienting his world around new information. There'd be more questions, he knew, and he was ready. It would be painful, but it was also necessary if Nick was going to remain as he was.

"So, that's a thing?" Nick said. "Your 'territory'?"

"In a manner of speaking," Sean said. "I'm a bastard Royal, and this is where I chose to settle after years on the run from my own family. I've claimed this place as mine, insofar as the wesen population looks to me to keep the peace. I'm the Prince, not a king, and not a ruler. But my presence here, and the choices I've made—both as a police officer and as a Royal—have safeguarded the wesen who live here. So, yes, this is my territory; my home. And I protect what's mine."

"And that includes making sure I don't turn into a nightmare," Nick said. "Including killing my aunt to prevent her from turning me into her, or some approximation of her."

"Yes," Sean said. "I won't apologize for that."

Nick sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back once again. "I'm not going to ask you to apologize." He sat up, turning to face Sean. "I'm a cop, which means I understand what it means to do the hard things in order to protect the people you've sworn an oath to protect. I may not like it, but I understand the necessity. And Portland is my home just as much as it's yours. I'm willing to do what I have to in order to keep this place safe. Obviously."

"We want the same things, Nick," Sean said. "It's our methods that differ, sometimes greatly."

"Yeah, I'm not sure I like some of your methods," Nick grumbled.

"I will admit that I could have approached some situations better," Sean said, offering an olive branch. "But perhaps in the future, if we work together, I won't have to resort to underhanded means to get things done."

"Too much palace intrigue as a child," Nick said, a glint in his eye.

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Palace intrigue was an intramural sport where I grew up."

"And Portland isn't Vienna," Nick said. "So, if we're going to work together, let's try to keep the elaborate plans and backstabbing to a minimum. Deal?"

Nick stuck out his hand and Sean took it. Something settled within him at the gesture, as though he was finally ready to believe that this could work. Which was a surprise, because he'd believed this was the only way from the beginning. Apparently, he'd been harboring some deep-seated doubts, but after this conversation it seemed the doubts were being laid to rest.

It was a start, at least.

~o~

The rest of the weekend passed in much the same manner. They went for a run Saturday morning, and spent part of the day completing long-overdue paperwork. Nick was somehow more reassured to find that his boss liked the paperwork aspect of the job even less than he did. It also gave them the chance to talk through several of their most difficult cases, going over how they could have done things differently and making suggestions for how to deal with similar situations in the future.

For Nick, it was a surprisingly hopeful time. The more he got to know Renard—no, at this point, his boss was definitely Sean—the more he understood the man. Sean had grown up in a world that was both different than the one Nick had grown up in, and yet remarkably the same. They'd both had parents who'd essentially abandoned them, had both grown up without a stable home, but had both benefited from the presence of a strong woman in their lives.

That had been a shocking revelation. In all the time they'd spent working with or against each other, he'd never stopped to consider the man. They were more alike than Nick had ever realized. They were both fierce protectors, willing to go to great lengths to protect the city and its residents, whether they were human or wesen. And both men were extremely loyal to those in their inner circle. Nick was surprised to realize that he had found a place in Sean's inner circle, but even more surprised to find that Sean had a place in his, as well.

Sean, he'd found, had a wicked sense of humor, though he kept it under wraps for the most part. And while he might be controlling to an extreme degree, Nick felt like he understood where that came from: spending his childhood on the run from his own family had made him wary of outsiders and unwilling to leave anything to chance.

There was one thing still niggling at him, something he was loath to bring up but he knew they had to discuss it. This wouldn't be their only chance, but it felt too important to put off.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sean asked as they were washing dishes from dinner Sunday night.

"Is that all they're worth these days?" Nick joked back.

"I've got a five in my wallet, if that's more to your liking," Sean said.

Nick enjoyed Sean's sly smile for just a heartbeat as he put away the pan Sean had used to sear their Ahi Tuna. But he quickly sobered as he thought about what he wanted to say.

"Things at work are going to get complicated."

He'd voiced this thought before, but it had been weeks ago, when Sean had first explained the Bond to him, before he truly understood what was involved.

"Not necessarily," Sean said. "It's true I'll still be your boss at the office, so in that respect nothing will change. But even outside of work, this will be more like a collaboration. A partnership. I'm not looking to lord this over you or control you in any way."

And hadn't that been a surprise. Nick was still trying to wrap his brain around that one. But before he could get too far down that road, he refocused on his original point.

"True, but if we'll need to spend a few nights a week together, to keep the Bond settled, it's inevitable that people are going to find out. How are we going to explain that? 'We're in a relationship, but not that kind of relationship?'"

Sean paused, the plate he'd been washing forgotten in his hand as he considered Nick's words. He glanced at Nick as he finished rinsing the plate. "So, what would you suggest?"

"I think we should file the paperwork to declare ourselves in a romantic relationship."

Sean stared at Nick, his face slack with shock. "Are you serious? Are you sure?"

"I've given this a lot of thought over the past few days," Nick said. He took the plate from Sean's hands before he dropped it, wiping it down and setting it aside to put away later. He flicked the towel over his shoulder and turned to lean a hip against the counter. "We're going to be spending a lot of time with each other, especially at first while the Bond settles. I'm going to be practically living with you. If people see us together, they'll probably assume we're on a date. It would give us plausible cover for why we're suddenly spending so much time together. And once the initial fuss dies down, people won't even care what we're doing or why."

"And the fraternization regs?" Sean asked, turning to look at Nick. "Have you considered how we'd go about explaining how this 'personal relationship' started?"

"The frat regs are meant to protect us from harassment. Specifically, they're meant to prevent a superior officer from using their authority to pressure his subordinate into a relationship." Sean raised an eyebrow. "I checked," Nick said, shrugging one shoulder.

"And the point is?" Sean asked.

"The point is, I approached you about this. That's not against the regs. If we say it that way, that I asked you out, there shouldn't be a problem."

"And the fact that we're both men isn't a problem, either?" Sean asked.

Nick shook his head. "Portland's pretty progressive. There's nothing in the regs to prohibit a same-sex relationship. They only want to know that it's consensual, and that as the subordinate, I'm not under duress."

"I meant for you, personally," Sean said. "You don't mind people thinking you're in a romantic relationship with another man?"

"I've always been a little more adventurous than most people believe," Nick said. "But aside from a very few people—who will know what's actually going on—what the rest of the department believes really doesn't matter much to me."

"Are you sure this is something you want to do?" Sean asked. "You don't have to. If asked, we can say that I'm mentoring you, helping prepare you for the Sergeant's Exam."

"By letting me spend the night at your house several times a week?" Nick asked, raising his own eyebrow. "And what happens after I sit for this mythical exam? You going to figure out a new excuse?"

Sean turned, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink, dishes forgotten in the soapy water. "I don't want to be the cause of your downfall, Nick. I don't want your career or your personal life to suffer because of me and what this might mean. Not everyone's as progressive as you seem to think they are. It's bound to come up someday, and it may cost you dearly."

Nick paused before he answered, because Sean did have a point, and he owed it to him to consider it before he made a decision. Did Nick want to advance? Yes, he did. He'd actually like to take the Sergeant's Exam someday, maybe take on more responsibility, become a Captain down the road. And it was true that there would always be those in the department that would frown on a same-sex relationship, no matter who it was with. 

But the alternative was to lie and sneak around. And what happened when someone discovered that it wasn't exam prep they were doing? People could take facts and bend them to look like anything they wanted. And that might cost him a lot more than some embarrassment. Failure to disclose a personal relationship was something that could cost him his job, and that was too high a price to pay.

"Look, I'm not saying it's going to be easy," Nick said. "But if we don't disclose this relationship, and someone finds out we've been spending a lot of time together outside work and reports it, it could cost us our jobs. I'd rather fake a relationship with you than risk that. I love being a cop. And being a cop makes it easier to be a Grimm, believe it or not. I'm not eager to give up either one at this point. If this is the price I have to pay, then that's okay with me."

Sean turned around and leaned back against the sink, bracing his hands on the edge. He was still putting metaphorical distance between them, but at least it wasn't openly hostile. "And what do you want to tell people, if they find out?"

"That we're seeing each other and anything else is none of their business," Nick said. "I'll tell Hank the truth—and you might consider telling Wu—but it's not like we're planning on making out in the squad room. Nothing has to change at work. It's not like I'm that big into PDAs anyway. That always struck me as…"

"Like you're putting on a show," Sean said when Nick ran out of words.

"Yeah," Nick said, oddly relieved that Sean got it. "I don't want to push you into anything. I just think it's better to be upfront about this than sneak around and worry about getting caught."

"Fair enough," Sean said. "I'm less concerned with what people think about me, so if you're comfortable with this then we'll move forward with your idea."

Nick smiled. "Thanks. I'll look into the paperwork tomorrow. How long do you think before we can do the Ritual?"

"It's not a matter of how long, more how well we mesh as partners," Sean said. He turned back to the sink and turned on the faucet to warm up the water. "Once we're both ready, I'll schedule us both for a long weekend so we can spend as much time as possible together to let the Bond settle before we have to go back to work."

"So…"

Sean rolled his eyes. "Let's spend a few more weekends together, get used to being around each other. Then we'll talk about when we want to perform the Ritual. Deal?"

"Deal," Nick said, smiling. "Now how about we finish these dishes so I can get back to watching the game?"

Sean flicked him with soapy water, drawing a yelp out of Nick. He narrowed his eyes, but Sean schooled his face into the most angelic mask he could manage. Nick found himself helpless in the face of that, so instead of getting revenge, he gently nudged Sean into finishing the dishes.

~o~

"I thought you'd finished your report already."

Nick's head popped up as Hank passed behind him. "I did. This is something else."

"Something else, huh?" Hank asked. He leaned over Nick's shoulder, trying to get a look at what he was working on. Nick slammed the folder shut, spinning his chair around and arching a brow at his partner. "Super secret business?"

Hank didn't sound the least bit repentant for having poked his nose into Nick's business, but then Nick hadn't expected him to. If there was one thing Hank could be counted on for, it was making sure things were good with his partner. And it wasn't even that he didn't want Hank to know; more like he didn't want to just blurt it out at work. But now that Hank had scented a mystery, he wasn't just going to let go.

"Come on," Nick said, rising and grabbing his badge and gun. Might as well get it over with.

"Where are we going?" Hank asked as he followed his partner out of the building.

"To get some decent coffee," Nick said. "And talk about the paperwork."

"Super secret business," Hank stated again, drawing a snort out of Nick.

"Not really," Nick said. "Just not something I'm prepared for the rest of the office to know until I've told a few people."

"Told which people what?" Hank asked.

Nick gave him a wait for it glare as they headed down the street and entered the coffee shop. It being the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, it was quiet and they didn't have to wait. Coffee in hand, Nick guided them to a table in the corner by the windows and settled in.

"So," Nick said.

"So," Hank echoed back. "Gonna tell me what this super secret business is all about?"

Nick looked down into his coffee. He wasn't sure why this was so difficult. It wasn't like he and Sean were actually in a relationship, and telling Hank about the two of them also involved telling him about the Bond, so he wouldn't be lying to him. It just... made it real, somehow.

"So, I've decided to accept Sean's offer," Nick finally said, looking up at his partner.

"That's good," Hank said. He tilted his head. "That is good, isn't it?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's good. But that isn't all."

"It's not?" Hank asked. 

"We're also filing paperwork to declare a romantic relationship."

Both Hank's eyebrows raced for his hairline. "You are? And are you? In a relationship, I mean."

"Sort of," Nick said. "Or at least, that's what it's going to look like once the Bond is complete. We'll be spending several nights a week together, aligning ourselves more closely outside work. It's better if people believe something's there that isn't than to get busted for something we're not even doing."

Hank wrinkled his nose. "When I figure out what you said I'm sure I'll have a witty reply. Just... are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"I've thought about it a lot, and Sean and I talked it through," Nick said. "It'll be a more plausible cover than saying that he's tutoring me for the Sergeant's Exam."

"Well, as excuses go, it'll last longer," Hank said. "Are you ready for what happens when the rest of the precinct finds out?"

Nick shrugged. "I'm not sure it's possible to really be prepared. It's not like I care what anyone else thinks. You know the truth, and so will Monroe and Rosalee. That's what really matters."

"Is someone going to tell Wu?"

"I told Sean he probably should," Nick said. "The guy's been out of the loop enough. It's time he gets to sit at the grown-ups table."

Hank snorted. "He'll probably find a way to complain about the food." He paused, cocking his head as if something had just occurred to him. "Sean?"

"We're about to be bonded to each other, which is a deeper connection than being married," Nick said. "What would _you_ call him?"

"Captain?"

Nick couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Because truth be told, when he watched the man searing tuna, roasting green beans and baking the most fantastic focaccia bread Nick had ever tasted, _Captain_ was about the last word he'd use to describe him.

Nick stood up, his eyes still sparkling even as he gave his friend a serious look. "You gonna be okay with all this?"

Hank stood and clasped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Whatever you need; I've got your back."

~o~

Time seemed to roll by, summer passing away into fall, as Sean and Nick spent more time together. Every weekend that wasn't spent chasing leads on a hot case was spent with each other. Long runs, time at the gun range practicing for re-qualification, even cooking lessons and a few sparring sessions in the woods, they did it all.

Sean marveled at how easily they'd fallen into this partnership. Whereas before, Nick would go off and execute his duties as a Grimm as stealthily as possible, now he'd actively seek out Sean's advice and discuss options for some of his more difficult cases. 

It had been a shock, the first time Nick came to him with questions he'd have asked the _blutbad_ before. It settled something inside him that had still doubted Nick really wanted this Bond. He hadn't realized until that point that he'd been waiting for a sign from Nick.

Tonight they were reclined on the couch, soft music playing in the background. Sean was reviewing reports while Nick made notes on the latest wesen to cross his path in one of those huge old leather-bound books from his aunt's trailer. Nick was comfortable. At ease. In Sean's home, with Sean, as though they'd always been this way.

 _Now_ , he thought as he watched Nick nibbling on the tip of his pen. _Now he's ready._

"You're not on call next weekend, are you?" 

Nick looked up, frowning as he thought about the question. Sean knew the answer—had signed off on the schedule himself, including the extra day off that Nick had apparently not yet noticed—but this was too important to simply dictate terms.

"No. Why?"

"I'm thinking next weekend would be a good time to perform the Ritual," Sean said, watching Nick's reaction carefully.

"You think we're ready?" he asked, tilting his head.

Instead of answering, Sean let his eyes wander over Nick, clad in an old PPD t-shirt and grey sweats, his socked feet tangled with Sean's in the middle of the couch. He noted with some smug pride that Nick no longer hid his books from Sean, had even on occasion allowed him to look through them when he had questions or couldn't read the language the book had been written in.

When he finally raised his gaze back to Nick's face, he arched one elegant eyebrow and waited.

Nick blushed faintly. "I get it: we're comfortable with each other. You don't need more time to prepare?"

"I actually started preparations after the first time we spoke in my office," Sean said. "All that remains is to gather the ingredients for the zaubertrank."

"It doesn't need time to gel?" Nick asked. Sean frowned, wondering just what it was his Grimm thought was involved in the making of most zaubertranke. But Nick just kept going. "Ferment? Congeal? Simmer?"

"It's not a complicated potion," Sean said. "It will only take a few moments to prepare."

"Huh," Nick said, glancing away with a confused frown. "Wonder why it always takes Rosalee longer."

"As a _zauberbiest_ , I can infuse the zaubertrank with my magic," Sean said quietly. Despite all the topics they'd discussed over the course of their time together, this was the one they'd actively stayed away from. But if they were going to do this—bond themselves to each other—they needed to get it out in the open.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Ask me anything," Sean said, meaning every word.

"Is it because you're only half- _zauberbiest_?" Nick asked.

"You're going to have to be a little clearer," Sean said, a crooked smile tipping his lips.

"It's just," Nick said, shifting a little uncomfortably before he just blurted it out. "Why aren't you bitchy?"

Sean held his peace for all of two seconds before he burst out laughing. Nick scowled as he kicked at Sean's legs. But it didn't take long for him to join in Sean's laughter.

"Seriously," Nick said, still chuckling. "Adalind was vain, manipulative, vindictive. _Bitchy_. If you're any of that, you've done a really good job hiding it."

"Fortunately, I'm only half _zauberbiest_ ," Sean said. "It would seem that the less savory parts of my heritage skipped me."

"Thank God for that," Nick muttered. Sean nudged his foot, and Nick looked up, a little chagrined. "Sorry. It's just, your mother wasn't even like that. Well, not much anyway. Are you sure she's a _hexenbiest_?"

"I've been at the pointed end of her wrath," Sean said, shuddering slightly. "Believe me when I tell you, my mother can out 'biest the worst of them. Adalind included."

"I believe it," Nick said.

"So, next weekend?" Sean asked, wanting to get them back on track.

"Next weekend," Nick said, nodding. "Do I need to do anything to prepare?"

Sean shook his head. "Just come by after your tour on Thursday. We'll perform the Ritual on Thursday night and spend the rest of the weekend settling in."

"Do I need to ask my boss for the time off, or did you already take care of that?"

It was Sean's turn to look chagrined. "It's been handled."

"Thought so," Nick said. But rather than looking smug at being right, he just looked pleased that he didn't have to worry about it. It probably had something to do with the paperwork involved. 

Business handled, Nick went back to his writing. Sean watched him for a few moments, enjoying how the man seemed to be so relaxed, even after the conversation they'd had. Yes, they were ready for the next step. Only time would tell if it was the right move.

~o~

The rap at the door drew Sean out of the fugue his paperwork seemed to have put him in. He tilted his head, stretching his neck as he called for his visitor to enter. Sergeant Wu swung the door open, leaning in with his customary smirk firmly in place.

"Shift change was an hour ago," he said, leaning against the doorjamb. "Shouldn't you already be at home?"

Sean snorted. "If only it were that easy. I've still got a couple of reports I need to review."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the day off you're taking on Friday, would it?"

Sean's gaze narrowed, but Wu was still wearing that same smirk that said he knew everything about you and was only biding his time to use it. Sean never worried, as long as that meant he used his knowledge for good and not evil. And that he used it on other people.

"Come in," Sean said, waving the Sergeant through the door. "Close the door behind you."

Wu's eyebrow rose, but he did as he was asked, coming to stand in front of the Captain's desk, his thumbs hooked into his gun belt.

"So, Friday," Sean said.

Wu raised his hands. "I'm not telling you that you shouldn't take a day off every now and then. I just figured I'd have to threaten to handcuff you to your bed to get you to do it."

Sean frowned. He knew he had a reputation for being a workaholic, but running a precinct was hard work. It helped that he didn't have anyone to go home to, no one who'd complain at the long hours or that he brought work home more often than not. 

But he supposed that wouldn't be true after this weekend.

Wu just smirked and put his hands down, resting them on his gun belt once again.

"Detective Burkhardt and I will be bonding this weekend," Sean said.

"Over college football and bratwurst?" Wu asked, eyebrow once again raised. "Or are we talking about something with more gunpowder involved?"

"There's an ancient ritual that binds a Grimm to a Royal," Sean said, leaning back in his chair. "Nick and I will be—"

"Bonding," Wu said. "Got that. Question is, why?"

"It'll help Nick stay in touch with his humanity," Sean said, not sugar-coating the issue. "It'll help keep him from getting out of control and harming the wesen population."

"That's possible?" Wu asked. "He seems okay now."

"We've been spending time together," Sean said. "I have to believe that even just that has helped keep him from spiraling out of control."

"So, what, you'll spend the weekend having hot monkey sex?"

Sean nearly choked on his own spit. "No," he said when he'd finally recovered. "Nothing like that. Ours will be a totally platonic Bond. We have, however, filed paperwork to declare a romantic relationship. Since we'll need to spend time together away from work, due to the Bond, it'll arouse less suspicion if people think we're involved."

"So, let me get this straight," Wu said. "You're going to bond, which is totally platonic, but you're going to tell people you're dating so they don't get suspicious."

"Yes," Sean said, nodding.

Wu shook his head. "That makes the kind of sense that doesn't."

Sean shrugged. "Probably."

"Whatever," Wu said, sketching his own shrug. "As long as it keeps Nick from going off the rails, you'll have my support. God knows all the crazy stuff I've seen over the last couple of years is enough to make even the sanest person lose their shit. I'd really rather not have to arrest him."

"Neither would I," Sean said.

"At least you're finally taking some time off," Wu said, turning and heading for the door. "And who knows, maybe if you have someone to go home to, you'll actually leave the office on time for once."

"Not sure it works that way," Sean said, turning back to the paperwork spread out over his desk. He needed to get through it all if he was going to take a few days off.

"We'll see," Wu said, opening the door and stepping through. 

Sean watched as the door closed behind his Sergeant, thinking about what he'd said. It was true that since he and Nick had begun spending time together, he'd left the office as close to on time as he ever had. Which didn't mean he hadn't taken work home with him, but Nick had done the same—whether it was his work as a Detective or his work as a Grimm—and they had often spend evenings on the couch, quietly doing paperwork together. It had been nice.

Perhaps there was something to that after all.

~o~

"So, I had an interesting visitor at the shop this morning."

Nick looked up from his plate at Rosalee's words. He'd honestly been too distracted by the smell—and taste—of the Zucchini Lasagna to keep up idle chatter. But something in her tone set off his Spidey sense. 

And then it registered.

"Sean," Nick said. "He said he'd be going by the shop this week."

"Picked up some interesting ingredients," Monroe chimed in. "Got anything you want to tell us?"

Nick sighed and leaned back, dinner forgotten. "I was going to tell you, but things happened so fast."

"It's been months," Monroe said, pointing at him with his fork. "That's not all that fast."

There was no censure in his words, but Nick still felt bad. He'd meant to have this conversation sooner; he hadn't wanted his friends to find out some other way, but it looked like they had anyway.

"Yeah, well, it took me a while to come around to the idea," Nick said.

"I get it, Nick," Monroe said. "It's not easy admitting you need someone else. I'm just glad you have."

"We both are," Rosalee said. She reached across the table and squeezed Nick's arm. "You're a good guy and we'd like to keep you that way."

"Thanks," Nick said. "It's actually been... good. We've talked a lot about everything. I wasn't sure it would work, at first, but now I think we're going to be fine."

"Good," Monroe said. "My grandfather might have a heart attack if he ever heard me say this, but I think the Captain's been good for all of us."

"Sean's a good man," Nick said, diving back into his lasagna. "He's just trying to do right by the wesen population."

"So, have you thought about what you'll tell people if they ask why you're spending so much time together?" Rosalee asked.

Nick almost choked on a bite of lasagne. "How do you—"

"Oh come on," Monroe said. "You think people won't find out? They'll find out, and then there'll be questions."

"Of course," Rosalee said. "And the rumor mill being what it is, they'll blow it all out of proportion unless you have a plausible story."

Monroe narrowed his eyes as Nick gulped at his water, trying to wash down the bite that had nearly gone down the wrong way.

"We decided to tell people we're involved," Nick choked out. "Romantically."

"Huh," Monroe said. "Didn't see that one coming."

Rosalee smirked at her husband. "Come on, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"You knew?" Monroe practically shouted. "And you didn't say anything?"

Rosalee didn't reply, just rolled her eyes. Nick chuckled, now that he wasn't actively trying to choke himself to death. 

"Just as long as you don't let it slip that we're not really dating, it'll be fine."

Rosalee and Monroe shared a look that Nick didn't like, but before he could say anything, Monroe had changed the subject. But later, when he was lying in bed thinking about how easy it had been to tell his friends, he remembered that look. 

It had looked an awful lot like Rosalee thought he was being dense, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He and Sean were just colleagues. Maybe even friends. Nothing more.

And certainly not _that_.

~o~

Nick sat at the breakfast bar in Sean's kitchen, watching as he crushed some herbs together using an honest-to-God mortar and pestle. The small bags the herbs had come out of were unmarked, so he had no idea what Sean was mixing. Not that he didn't trust the man; that's what this whole thing was all about, after all.

Still.

"So, what is all this stuff?" he asked.

Sean glanced up before going back to crushing herbs. "Edelweiss," he said, tipping his chin at the nearest bag. "For strength and resiliency."

Nick pulled the bag to him and peered inside. The flowers were dried, but still shocking white and appeared to be looking back at him. He pushed the bag away.

"Kawakawa," Sean said next, tugging that bag to him and scooping out some dark seeds that he added to the bowl. "For purity."

Nick inhaled, noting the slightly spicy aroma now wafting from the bowl Sean was continuing to grind.

"And orris root," Sean said, taking some small brown chunks of root from the last bag. "They'll promote the connection between us."

When he'd crushed the three herbs together to his satisfaction, he sprinkled some into each of two glasses of red wine waiting on the counter. Setting the mortar and pestle aside, he looked at Nick.

"Only one more ingredient and we'll be ready," Sean said.

Nick looked around, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've notice, but I think you ran out of bags."

Sean smirked. "Very astute of you, Detective."

Instead of reaching for something in his cabinets, he pulled something out of a drawer. When he placed it on his finger, Nick realized what he was looking at was a lancet. Sean pressed the button with his thumb, stabbing himself and drawing blood. Nick watched, fascinated, as he squeezed a few drops of his own blood into each glass.

Then he turned and reached for Nick's hand.

"No!" Nick practically shouted. He took a deep breath and tried again, holding his hand close to his chest. "I mean, you can't put my blood in your glass. It'll—It'll cost you your wesen. Your 'biest. I can't—I won't do that to you."

Sean's expression softened. "Nick, I'm only half 'biest. Your blood won't actually harm the wesen inside me. That only works on full 'biests."

"You're sure?" Nick asked. But far from being insulted that Nick was even asking, Sean's expression softened even further, his eyes radiating compassion.

"Thank you for being so concerned, but I'm certain." He held out his hand once more. "Now, I'll need a few drops of your blood to complete the zaubertrank."

Nick hesitantly held out his hand. Sean placed the lancet against his finger and pressed the trigger. Nick winced as the needle stabbed into his skin, but dutifully squeezed a few drops of his blood into each glass, as Sean had done.

Sean raised one glass, swirling the contents as he held it up to the light, looking for all the world like a wine connoisseur examining a new wine. When he seemed satisfied, he handed the glass to Nick and picked up his own, repeating the swirling motion. This time, Nick saw the telltale twinkle of light through the liquid that said that Sean had done something to influence the substance now floating in his glass.

 _Magic_ , Sean had called it.

Nick peered dubiously into the glass, not sure what he was supposed to be able to see. All he could see was wine. He saw Sean take a sip out of the corner of his eye and followed suit. 

"Huh."

Sean turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "Something wrong?"

"No," Nick said, shaking his head. "I just—"

"Expected to be able to taste something?"

"Yeah," Nick said, exhaling heavily.

Sean smiled. "The best zaubertranke are undetectable."

"The better to sneak up on you with," Nick muttered.

Instead of answering, Sean cocked his head. "Let's go sit by the fire."

Nick followed him into the living room, where they settled on the rug in front of the fireplace. It was almost romantic, but Nick knew there was very little romance involved at all. Still, he was going to enjoy the quiet evening. There was soft jazz playing in the background, the warmth of the fire, the glow of the candles spread around the room, and his admittedly-handsome companion.

Boss. He had to remember that. Sean was his boss.

"Relax, Nick," Sean said, as if reading his mind. "Just enjoy the wine. Tell me about your week. You and Hank were chasing a bunch of shoplifters, right?"

"Yeah," Nick said. 

He sipped at his wine as he told Sean about the gang of young _maushertz_ who'd been hitting stores all through downtown, accidentally killing a guard who gave chase, right into oncoming traffic. Nick hadn't been sure they'd close the case before Thursday night, which would have ruined their weekend plans. But, they'd caught a break late Wednesday and were able to make an arrest Thursday morning. 

"Turned out to be a bunch of high school boys on a dare," Nick said, shaking his head. "They hadn't meant for the guard to be killed. They were just trying to look good for their friends."

"And now they'll spend three years in juvenile hall and drag around an arrest record for the rest of their lives," Sean said, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Nick said, swallowing the last of his wine. "The stupidity of youth."

"You done?" Sean asked.

Nick looked down into his glass and was surprised to find it was empty. "Yeah, I guess I am. Wow. I don't even feel buzzed."

Sean took his glass and set it on the coffee table with his own. "That's the zaubertrank. You need to be fully cognizant of what you're about to do; otherwise it won't work."

"That's... actually reassuring," Nick said.

Sean pulled his t-shirt off, and encouraged Nick to do the same. Sitting across from each other, Sean looked at Nick.

"Ready?"

Nick nodded. "Ready."

Sean placed his hand on Nick's chest, over his heart; Nick did the same. Sean nodded at Nick, who began to recite the vow Sean had taught him.

"License my hands to rove, let them go, Before, behind, between, above, below," Nick said in a sure, calm voice.

"O my Kingdom, my home, my new-found-land, My people, guarded by the sword in my hand," Sean said, then began the next verse. "My heart and soul's desire, My Empirie."

"How blest am I to have discovered thee," Nick said, picking up the verse as he spoke.

And then together, they spoke the final lines: "To enter into this bond, is to be free; Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be."

Nick felt the skin under Sean's hand warming at the same time the skin of Sean's chest under his own hand did the same. The heat radiated out from his chest, suffusing his entire body with an overwhelming sense of... rightness, of completion, as if he'd been going through life half-blind and now he could see. 

Everything.

Nick gasped as it reached an intensity he could barely handle. And then it began to dissipate, floating away on the air like bright, twinkling stars until the room returned to the muted glow of the fireplace and the few candles that Sean had lit before they sat down.

"Wow," Nick whispered. "That was... intense."

"It certainly was," Sean said.

"Did you know it would be like that?"

Sean shook his head. "No. I've never known anyone who's been through the Ritual. I had no idea."

"What now?" Nick asked.

"Now, I think we should go to bed," Sean said.

Nick opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly he could feel a sucking weariness, down to his very bones, that hadn't been there just a little while ago.

"Yeah, good idea," he said instead.

Sean rose, as graceful as ever, and reached down to help Nick up. He wobbled a bit before getting his bearings, and followed Sean upstairs and into the master bedroom. He didn't even protest sleeping together, just face planted into the bed and promptly fell asleep.

~o~

The sun had already risen by the time Sean came awake. 

The first thing he registered was the line of light across the bed. It hadn't gotten to the point where it was slicing through his eyes, but he could feel it warming his skin through the blankets.

The second thing he registered was that Nick was practically plastered to his side. 

They'd stumbled their way upstairs and fallen into bed, both of them suddenly too tired to bother with niceties like brushing teeth or even climbing under the covers. But at some point during the night they must have pulled the blankets over them because they were both now covered. And Nick, it seemed, had gravitated to him, resting his head on Sean's shoulder so that his hair tickled Sean's chin with every inhale and exhale.

But far from it being an uncomfortable moment, it felt… right. Like Nick was exactly where he belonged. 

Of course, the next thing he knew, Nick was on the floor in a pile of blankets, blinking up at him with confused eyes.

Sean tried valiantly to stifle the laughter clawing up his throat, but he knew he wasn't entirely successful when Nick's eyes narrowed as he stared up at Sean, who'd leaned over the side of the bed to make sure he was okay.

"Somehow, I get the feeling this is your fault," Nick muttered as he ran a hand through his hair.

Sean raised an eyebrow. "How is you falling out of bed my fault?"

"Because! You and—" and here Nick went non-verbal, waving his hand between the two of them, the bed, the room. "You know what? Nevermind."

"It was nice," Sean said.

Nick tilted his head at what was seemingly a non-sequitur. "It was nice?"

"Waking up with you next to me," Sean said. He thought he could feel a slight tingle of embarrassment, as if the Bond were already working. He shrugged, more to himself than to Nick. "It was nice, like you were where you belong."

Nick paused, his eyes taking on a far-away gleam, like he was replaying the last few minutes, trying to find the flaw.

"Huh," he said. "It _was_ nice, wasn't it?"

"The Bond," Sean said. Because he knew that much for sure. The Bond would draw them to each other, for protection more than anything. He hadn't thought it would feel that good, though.

"If you say so," Nick said dubiously. He totally ruined his skepticism by tossing the blankets back on the bed before crawling back onto the mattress, stretching out beside Sean without actually touching him.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, until Sean heard a stomach growl. Not sure if it was his or Nick's, he glanced over. Nick was looking at him, one eyebrow raised. "You?

"Maybe?" Sean answered.

The second rumble definitely came from him. Nick tried to stifle his own laughter, but it came out as a slightly hysterical giggle instead. Sean merely huffed his amusement as he rolled out of bed.

"I'll go start the coffee," he said as he headed for the door, not even bothering to stop and put on a shirt.

If Nick minded at all, he didn't say anything.

~o~

By Sunday night, Sean could definitely say they'd started feeling each other's emotions. It had started vaguely enough, but the longer they spent together, the more definitive it became. 

Nick had expressed surprise that it was happening so soon, but Sean believed that it had a lot to do with the time they'd spent together before bonding. They hadn't only settled their differences; they'd also grown closer, become comfortable with each other and built a friendship that would form the foundation for the Bond. 

When they woke Monday morning, they were tangled up in each other, but unlike that first morning, Nick simply stretched and rolled out of bed, supremely unconcerned that the pillow he'd been using was, in fact, his Captain.

Sean considered it a victory.

They took turns showering, and by the time Nick came out of the master bath, Sean had donned his suit and was working on tying his tie. 

Much to his surprise, Nick walked up, right into his space, and tugged the ends of the tie out of his unresisting fingers. He expertly flipped and tugged until a perfect Windsor knot sat in the hollow of Sean's throat. Sean raised an eyebrow, but all he got in reply was a smug smirk.

"I do wear ties, from time to time," he said as he turned and headed for the door. "I'll get the coffee started."

And then he disappeared through the door. Sean heard him clatter down the stairs and into the kitchen while he stood there dumbfounded. It had been so normal, so _domestic_ , that for a moment, he was thrown off. If this was how the morning was going to go, how would their day at work go?

Shaking himself, he pulled his suit coat on and headed downstairs, following the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee into the kitchen.

Things would be fine at work because they were both adults, and quite used to keeping secrets. Besides, word had begun to trickle out that the two of them were dating—as much as he loathed that word—so any behavior that smacked of domesticity would be shrugged off as the result of that relationship. 

He and Nick would be fine. They'd both see to that.

~o~

Nick hadn't been in the office more than an hour when they were called out to investigate a suspicious death. Their victim—Carl Evers, Esq—had been found first thing that morning, slumped over in a conference room at the law firm he worked at. 

There were no obvious signs of foul play, but the fact that the man died alone, at his place of work and under mysterious circumstances warranted an investigation.

Hank whistled as they looked over the body. "Italian leather shoes, custom tailored suit. And check this out: a Patek Philippe watch. Very rare, very expensive."

"And you know all this how?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ex-girlfriend who was into the finer things in life," Hank said, shrugging. "She left when she realized she wasn't getting any of that on a cop's salary."

Nick just chuckled. "Probably for the best. I can't imagine you in a custom tailored suit and Italian leather shoes."

"I don't know, man," Hank said, standing up from his crouch. "Have you seen the fabric on this suit? Very nice."

"At least he makes an attractive dead body," Sergeant Wu said as he came into the room.

"What have you got?" Nick asked as he came around the table.

Hank joined them as Wu flipped open his notebook. "Carl Evers, age 35. Junior Partner at Deaton West. Security has him entering the building at around 7 o'clock this morning. His assistant confirmed that he had a conference call on his calendar."

"Did he make the call?" Hank asked.

"The assistant's checking with the people he met with," Wu said. "She's also going to pull together a list of his recent clients and cases."

"Let's go see if she can tell us anything else about our victim," Nick said.

Wu's radio came to life, the voice a little garbled but Nick was still able to pick out the word _coroner_ from the rest of the meaningless chatter. "I'll meet the ME downstairs and escort them in."

Wu headed for the elevators while Nick and Hank went in search of the assistant. They found her in an office down the hall, sniffling as she sorted through the paperwork on the desk. Nick knocked on the doorframe, and the woman's head popped up.

"You must be the detectives investigating Carl's—"

"I'm Detective Burkhardt and this is Detective Griffin," Nick said, stepping into the room. "We were hoping we could ask you a few questions, but if you're not up for it, we can come back."

"No, no, come in," the woman said. "I'm Sally King. Carl is my boss. I was just sorting through some of his active cases. I need to figure out what to do with them, now that Carl—well, after what happened."

Nick noticed that every time she came close to talking about her boss's death, she'd clam up. It was a normal reaction, especially when someone died suddenly. She was clearly having trouble dealing with it, which could be nothing, but it could be something. He glanced at Hank, who gave him a minute nod. At least they were on the same page.

"Can you tell us if Carl had any enemies? Anyone who might want him dead?" Hank asked.

Sally snorted. "Carl was a defense attorney; he did a lot of pro bono work through the Public Defender's office, but he also had a list of clients he was representing. Like I told the Sergeant, I can provide a list of his clients and a basic outline of the cases. There are some real prize winners in there. Carl believed everyone should have the best defense, whether or not they had the money to buy it."

"Did he have any problems with any of his clients recently?" Nick asked. "Anyone not happy with Carl's work?"

"He had one client, about six months ago," Sally said. She went to a file cabinet and pulled out a thick folder, handing it over to Hank. "The guy was guilty as sin—even Carl said so—so no one was surprised when he was convicted at trial. But apparently the guy thought being a lawyer made you a miracle worker. He honestly expected to get off, and promised Carl there would be 'consequences' for not getting him that acquittal."

"What about his personal life?" Nick asked. "Wife? Girlfriend?"

Sally pressed her lips together, suddenly reluctant to talk where she'd been a Chatty Cathy before. It set off alarm bells in Nick.

"Look, we're not here to pass judgement," he said, taking a step forward, extending a hand, palm out as he tried to reassure her. "We just want to figure out what happened to Carl. Okay?"

Sally stared at him for the longest moment, and then suddenly, her face morphed and he was looking at an _eisbiber_. He averted his eyes without looking like he was avoiding her gaze, and just as quickly as her wesen side manifested, it was gone. 

Sally took a deep breath, thankfully none the wiser that she was facing the local Grimm, and began to speak. "Carl is—he was—married. But you have to understand, we didn't set out to have an affair. It just... happened. We'd work late, order dinner, sit and talk. One thing led to another. God, it sounds so cliche now. It was mostly just sex. I wasn't looking for romance, and he was just looking for a way to blow off steam. It worked for us."

Nick and Hank shared a look. It wasn't the worst story they'd ever heard, and Nick believed her when she said she wasn't in love with her boss. He also didn't believe she had anything to do with his death, but they'd have to check her out before they could clear her.

"Thank you for telling us, Sally," Nick said. He pulled a card out of his pocket. "When you get Carl's client list pulled together, give me a call."

"I will," Sally said, taking the card. "And thank you."

Nick nodded his reply as he followed Hank out into the hallway. The two men paused at the end of the hall.

"You believe her?" Hank asked.

Nick sighed, hitching his hands on his belt. "Yeah, I do. I don't think she had anything to do with his death, and I don't think she knows who might. Which suggests it might not be related to his work."

"You're thinking the wife?" Hank asked. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Unfortunately," Nick said. "I noticed a little bit of foam at the corner of his mouth. If he was poisoned, the wife might have had something to do with it. Maybe she found out about the affair?"

Hank shrugged. "Won't know until after the post. Did she...?"

" _Eisbiber_ ," Nick said. 

"And you're okay?"

Instead of being offended, Nick was simply grateful for a good friend like Hank. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Hank slapped him on the shoulder as he passed Nick, headed for the exit. Nick just smiled and followed his partner.

~o~

When they got back to the station, Nick volunteered to update the Captain. Hank just smirked, which Nick manfully ignored.

The Captain's door was slightly ajar when he approached, so he leaned in and knocked on the doorframe. "Hey, Captain. You got a minute?"

"Nick," Sean said, glancing up. "Come in."

Nick stepped through the door, leaving it open in his wake. He wanted to close it, but that might start more rumors than were already flying around. The last thing they needed was salacious gossip about them making the rounds. He was already getting curious looks from some of his co-workers. 

"So, Carl Evers."

"The dead body at the law firm downtown, right?" Sean asked.

"Yeah," Nick said. "No obvious signs of foul play, but the coroner hasn't finished the autopsy yet. His assistant is sending over a list of clients and cases, and she flagged one in particular that she thought might be of interest. She was also having an affair with the victim."

Sean leaned back in his chair, whistling low and long. "Did the wife know?"

"We haven't had the chance to talk to her yet," Nick said. "Apparently, she left on a business trip to San Francisco early this morning."

"Let me know as soon as you talk to her," Sean said. "Was there anything else?"

"The assistant is a wesen," Nick said, glancing down.

"How did that go?" Sean asked, getting up and rounding the desk to stand in front of the detective.

"She didn't recognize me," Nick said. "She was reluctant to talk about the affair, but I handled it pretty well. No homicidal urges."

Sean reached out and laid his hand on Nick's neck, squeezing gently. He could feel Sean's relief and pleasure that Nick seemed so stable. It was strange, to feel these emotions and know that they didn't belong to him. But he couldn't deny he was glad Sean seemed pleased with is reaction to the situation. It felt like he'd passed a test; like they'd both passed some sort of test.

"Good," Sean said. "Keep me posted on any developments."

"I will," Nick said. 

"You coming over for dinner tonight?"

Nick didn't even have to think about it. It might be the Bond, or it might just be Sean's cooking, but there was no way Nick wouldn't come over. "I'll be there."

Again, a burst of pleasure, which drew a smile out of Nick. Sean squeezed his neck once more, then let go. Nick took that as his cue to head back to his desk. He glanced back briefly as he reached the door, finding Sean settled back behind his desk. A nod and a smile from his Captain—which Nick returned—and it was back to work.

Hank waited until he'd settled behind his desk to comment. "Everything okay?"

Nick didn't even bother hiding his smile. "Everything's fine."

~o~

Fall slid into winter, and before they knew it, the New Year had started and things had settled down into an easy pattern.

And then they were facing their toughest case in years.

They hit the warehouse hard, SWAT and almost half the uniformed officers in the city going in with Sean, Nick and Hank, right behind the breach team. They'd uncovered a human trafficking ring operating out of the Port, right under the nose of the Port Authority. 

Humans buying and selling humans, and not a wesen in sight.

There were days when Sean honestly believed that the wesen weren't the only monsters in the world. Today was definitely one of them.

They'd timed the raid to make sure they caught most—If not all—of the ring leaders at the warehouse. They'd expected some resistance, so no one was surprised when a firefight broke out. The perps were almost as well armed as the police, except that none of them were wearing protective vests, which made killing them a lot easier.

Sean moved methodically through the space, taking only the shots necessary to clear a path to the back of the warehouse, where their intelligence suggested the young women were being held. 

He heard shouting to his left but before he could even react, he felt a searing pain through his left shoulder. Ignoring the pain and the warm, sticky liquid blooming under his vest, he pushed on, shooting the last guard before pushing through the door he'd stationed himself in front of.

Inside, a dozen women cowered against the far wall, some crying, but most huddling in fear, quietly awaiting their fate.

Right behind Sean, several female officers raced into the room—as per their plan—and began to take stock of the women and lead them outside to the waiting ambulances. Sean turned and made his way back into the main part of the warehouse, watching as his officers mopped up what remained of the traffickers.

He felt a wave of dizziness and heard more shouting as he sank to his knees. Suddenly, strong arms surrounded him and a comforting voice sounded in his ear.

"I've got you, Captain," Nick said behind him. 

He leaned into those strong arms, sagging in relief that he could trust his detective to take care of him. He'd never trusted someone like he did Nick, but then again he'd never been bonded to anyone before. He knew he could trust Nick because, with their connection to each other, Nick was more transparent than glass.

Nick chuckled behind him. "I'm glad I'm so easy to read."

Had he said that out loud? Apparently, the blood loss had killed his brain to mouth filter. On the up side, it seemed as though Nick was genuinely worried about him. 

"Yeah, I am; I do," Nick said quietly into the shell of his ear. 

Those were the last words Sean heard as he lost the battle with consciousness.

~o~

Nick paced the waiting area in the ER, nervously scuffing his hand through his hair as he glanced at the doors to the treatment bays every few seconds. 

It was irrational, he knew, to be so worried. Sure, Sean had lost consciousness—likely due to the shock from the blood loss—but he'd come to in the ambulance and since he could still move all his fingers, the paramedics seemed to think there'd be no lasting damage. And yet, Nick was pacing the room as if Sean were two deep breaths away from never waking up again.

That thought alone made Nick's heart stutter, and he had to pause in his pacing to take a couple of deep breaths himself. He wasn't sure, but he thought the Bond might have something to do with the irrational panic clawing at him. Like maybe the fact that Sean seemed to be blunting what Nick could feel from him was causing him to imagine the worst.

"Hey, partner, you okay?"

Nick turned, only just now remembering that Hank was there in the waiting room with him. He stood up and crossed the room, laying a hand on Nick's shoulder, concern radiating from every pore.

"He's gonna be fine," Hank said. "This isn't like last time. They'll patch him up and sooner than we'd like, he'll be back in the office making life hell for the rest of us."

"I know," Nick said, taking another deep breath, even though it didn't help. "I _know_. I just—maybe if I could just see him, I'd be okay. I think it's the not knowing that's getting to me. I mean, he was shot; he was _bleeding_. All over the floor, all over me. And I just—"

"Hey," Hank said, shaking him a little. "You're his Partner, right? Don't you have the right to be back there with him?"

Nick stared at Hank, surprised. Why hadn't he thought of that? He turned immediately and headed for the intake desk, Hank following behind him.

Before he could even open his mouth, the nurse was holding up a hand. "I know you're looking for information on Captain Renard, but I can't tell you anything."

"I'm his Partner," Nick said, completely ignoring her words. "I need to go back and see him."

"I'm sorry, Detective," she said, though the apology was probably perfunctory. "Only family can go in."

Hank cut in before Nick could say anything more, which was probably good, because the next words out of his mouth might not have been pretty.

"Ma'am, what my partner means to say is that Captain Renard is his romantic partner," Hank said with far more patience than Nick had at the moment. "I'm sure you understand that he's worried about the Captain. Now, unless you want him to charge through those doors like Teddy Roosevelt hitting San Juan Hill, I'd suggest you take him back to see his lover."

Nick nearly jolted at the use of the term, because if there was one thing the two of them weren't, it was lovers. Although, if he were going to swing that way again, Sean Renard would definitely be the one to do it with. Metaphorically and literally. The man was built like a Greek god. But it wasn't his physique that made him attractive. It was his care and attentiveness. His fierce loyalty. His cooking skills, because by god the man could cook.

Nick shook his head, short-circuiting his spiraling thoughts. Now was _so not_ the time for that.

The nurse frowned at him, as if trying to decide if they were bullshitting her in order to get behind the doors. Nick was self-aware enough to know he looked like the type, but that Sean wasn't necessarily someone that anyone would think was gay. 

"Look, I know you're just doing your job," Nick said, calmly and as kindly as he could muster. "But Sean was shot. He lost consciousness in my arms." His voice caught a little when he said it out loud, and _that_ he wasn't faking; it had honestly scared him. "I just… need to make sure he's okay. After the last time he was shot, I just need to make sure."

He was babbling, and he was fully aware he was doing it, but he couldn't stop himself. Thankfully, it seemed to be the right thing to do. The nurse's expression went from doubt to understanding in an instant.

"Follow me, Detective," she said, rising from the desk and heading for the double doors that would hopefully lead to Sean.

"Go," Hank said when Nick looked over at him. "Just let me know how he is when you can. I'll be right here waiting."

Nick nodded, turning to follow the nurse. They passed a few curtained off areas until she stopped at one about halfway down. Turning to Nick, she smiled, then headed back to her station.

Nick took a deep breath and grasped the curtain, preparing himself for the worst even as he scolded himself for it. Sean had been shot, once, in the shoulder. It had bled a lot, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to be fine.

Tugging the curtain aside so he could step in, he found Sean propped up on the gurney, his shirt off and a bloody bandage covering his left shoulder.

"Jesus," Nick muttered.

Sean's head popped up from the pillow, eyes narrowing until he realized who it was. Relief washed over his face as he held his hand out, beckoning Nick over to the bed. Nick didn't waste any time, taking the few steps to Sean's side and grasping his hand like it was a life-preserver.

"I'm okay," Sean said as Nick pressed their foreheads together.

"You have a hole in your shoulder," Nick said, chuckling a bit hysterically. "I think that's the very definition of not okay."

Sean smiled wanly. "Well, yes, there is that."

"What did the doctor say?" Nick asked as he pulled back, but only far enough to be able to see Sean's eyes.

"The bullet nicked an artery, that's why there was so much blood," Sean said. He held up his hand, where an IV was pumping saline into him, along with other goodies that Nick could probably recite from memory from the times he'd been in similar circumstances.

"Was it a through-and-through?"

Sean shook his head. "No, unfortunately. They're going to have to go in and get it. They need to suture the blood vessel anyway. But, they think I may only need to stay overnight. So, I should be out of here by tomorrow, if all goes well."

Nick almost collapsed with relief. "So, you're going to be okay."

It wasn't a question, but Sean answered it anyway. "I'm going to be fine. Eventually."

Nick didn't say anything to that, because what else was there to say? Those were the words he'd needed to hear, and now having heard them, he could feel his heart rate slowing down, the panic starting to recede.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," Nick whispered, pressing his forehead to Sean's once again.

"Wasn't planning on doing it this time," Sean said. 

Nick pulled back and looked into Sean's eyes. He was such as strong man, strong of will and character, able to carry others' burdens as well as his own. Nick wasn't a fool; he knew that entering into the Bond with him was Sean's way of helping him carry his burden. He could have walked away; he hadn't been forced into doing this. But he'd done it anyway. He'd done it for Nick, because he wanted Nick to be who he was. To stay the Nick Burkhardt they all knew and loved.

It was an act of courage, an act of faith. An act of love, if ever there was one.

"I want to consummate the Bond," Nick blurted out.

Sean pulled back, but Nick wouldn't let go of his hand, so he didn't get far. His eyes searched Nick's, and he could feel Sean's confusion, uncertainty, concern, probably over his motives for asking.

"If we consummate the Bond, that will make it permanent," Sean said, as if Nick didn't already know that.

"I know," Nick said. "I don't want to have this—" he waved his hand between them, as if that could encompass all they were together "—with anyone else. Only you."

"You're scared, Nick," Sean said. "Because I was shot."

"Yes, I am. I was." Nick stopped and took a deep breath. This was too important to half-ass. He had to be clear and honest. Sean deserved that much. "This isn't about that."

"Then what?" Sean asked, genuinely confused.

"I've been so focused on the Bond that I forgot what could happen if we spent so much time together," Nick said. "I've come to care about you, as a person and not just a means to an end. I've always admired and respected you, but we've essentially been dating for the last eight months. Somewhere in all that time, I think I fell in love with you."

Nick could have laughed out loud, long and hard, at the pole-axed look on Sean's face.

"Are you sure about this?" Sean asked.

"Sure that I'm in love with you?" Nick shrugged. "Never been in love with a guy before, so I have nothing to fall back on. Sure that I want to consummate the Bond with you? Yes, definitely."

Sean sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "All I can feel is the stress and urgency thrumming through you, so I have no idea if this is just a reaction to what happened to me, or if you genuinely want this." Nick opened his mouth to refute Sean, but one look with his Captain's face and Nick snapped his mouth shut. "Give it a month, Nick. If you still want that in a month, when the dust has settled and I've healed, we'll talk. But not a minute before."

Nick's shoulders slumped. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than Sean telling him no outright. He could live with a month's delay. It might not be easy, but he could live with it.

"Deal," Nick said. 

~o~

After two mostly restless nights in an uncomfortable hospital bed, Sean was released and headed for home, Nick hovering beside him like a mother hen. Not that Sean was necessarily unhappy at having him hovering. He was weak and achy, but thanks to his wesen side, he knew he'd heal faster than a normal human.

That didn't mean he wouldn't be tired and sore for a while. And Sean was a horrible patient, so there was that.

Nick had become a fixture at his side in the last two days, glaring at the nurses when it was suggested that he come back the next day to pick Sean up. He'd simply hopped up onto the other bed in Sean's room and made himself comfortable, daring the doctors and nurses to kick him out. He'd talked to the doctors, run interference when Sean's temper got the better of him and made sure he ate, even if the food was somewhat less than appetizing.

Now, as they walked through the front door of Sean's house, he could finally take a deep breath. He hated being injured, hated anyone seeing him that way. Oddly, he didn't mind if Nick did. 

Ever since his confession the day he'd been shot, Sean had been considering his own feelings for the Grimm. He'd always respected Nick, as a cop and as a person. He was a man with high morals and respect for everyone—even some of the bad guys he routinely put away. And he always treated people equally, no matter who they were or what their lot in life was.

Sean had known that his affection for Nick would necessarily deepen the more time they spent together. He'd been prepared for that. Knowing that Nick still viewed him with suspicion made him more realistic in that respect. He knew Nick couldn't possibly feel for him the way Sean did for Nick. 

Except now, it looked like maybe he'd been wrong. It might have been inevitable, what with all the time they'd spent together. But that was by no means proof that what Nick was feeling was genuine. It could still be a reaction to Sean being shot, so rather than rush headlong into something that might blow up in his face, he had to be cautious.

He'd had plenty of practice at that.

A sound from the living room snapped Sean out of his musings. He glanced at Nick, gratified to find the Detective had his gun out and was looking at him, waiting for his reaction. Sean nodded and hung back. He had his gun—Nick had secured his weapon and his vest in the ambulance on the way to the hospital—but he also had a shoulder injury, and knew better than to go charging into an uncertain situation when he was next to useless.

Still, he drew his gun and followed Nick, hanging back as Nick rounded the corner, gun up to face whoever it was that was waiting for them.

"That won't be necessary, Detective."

Sean closed his eyes, almost sagging with relief. He holstered his own gun and turned the corner, finding Nick facing his mother, looking shocked to find her in Sean's home. Sean was no less surprised, although he probably shouldn't be. She always seemed to turn up whenever he was hurt. He'd call it mother's intuition, but somehow he doubted it.

"Mother, what are you doing here?"

Elizabeth Lascelles crossed the room and pulled him into a soft hug, mindful of his injury. When she pulled back, there were unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

"You were shot. Again."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Yes, I was. I'm not sure you realize, but I'm a police officer. That will happen from time to time."

"Careful," Elizabeth said. "I'm still your mother. Sarcasm is not required nor appreciated."

"You're right," Sean said, sagging a bit. "I apologize. That was uncalled for."

Elizabeth smiled. "You're alright. That's all that matters. Now, not to be rude, but you look terrible. I stopped by the Spice Shop on my way here. Let me make you some tea."

Sean glanced at Nick, who seemed to be watching the two of them with curious interest. At Elizabeth's words, he shot forward and guided Sean to the couch, helping him settle into the soft cushions. Sean breathed a sigh of relief. Despite faster-than-normal healing abilities, it was still a literal pain to be injured.

Elizabeth pressed a dry kiss to his forehead, caressing his cheek as she looked at him, likely trying to figure out if he really was okay. He tried a smile on her, but he wasn't sure he managed it when she frowned at him.

"I really am okay, Mother."

"I know," she said. She straightened up, passing her hands over her pants as if she were trying to wipe away the wrinkles. It was a nervous gesture, and odd coming from a woman he would never expect to be nervous.

She turned to Nick and, surprising them both, pressed a kiss to his forehead as well. "Thank you for taking care of him."

And then she headed for the kitchen and the teapot.

Nick looked at Sean, raising an eyebrow. Sean gave a weak smile and shrugged with his good shoulder. He'd never seen her so rattled before. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he didn't have the energy to worry about it just now. 

Instead, he settled deeper into the cushions and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He felt Nick scoot closer to him, leaning into his good side and tugging him closer, so he was resting against Nick. It was so comfortable, so right, that he couldn't fight the fatigue anymore. 

The last thing he remembered was the sensation of Nick's lips pressing to his forehead, just where his mother's had.

~o~

The next morning, Nick came downstairs, still in the sweatpants and t-shirt he'd slept in, to find the coffee already started and the smell of frying bacon permeating every corner of the kitchen. He headed straight for the pot, Elizabeth giving him a sly smile as she nudged the empty mug toward him when he reached for the carafe.

"Thanks," Nick said, smiling at her. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I was up anyway," Elizabeth said, shrugging.

Nick highly doubted that, but he wasn't going to call her on it. She'd seemed genuinely rattled yesterday when she'd seen Sean freshly discharged from the hospital. 

He'd ended up staying two days instead of the promised one, which had only made his attitude worse. Nick had understood—what cop wouldn't—that being cooped up was doing nothing for his mood or his self-image. Nick had been no better the last time he'd been in hospital. 

And to be honest, Nick had been equally rattled—likely for different reasons—to see Sean looking pale and weak in that bed. The quick stab of fear and panic gripped him again at just the thought of Sean bleeding out on the warehouse floor.

A cool hand closed over his, and Nick looked up to find sympathetic eyes gazing at him.

"He's okay," Elizabeth said gently. "You slept beside him last night, heard his breathing, felt the warmth of his body. He's _alive_ , Nick. Remember that."

Nick smiled wanly. "Thanks. I could say the same to you."

Elizabeth squeezed his hand before turning back to the stove. "Would you like some eggs?"

"Scrambled?" Nick asked.

Elizabeth tossed a quick smile over her shoulder and set about scrambling some eggs for him, pushing the plate of bacon his way so he'd have something to munch on while the eggs cooked.

"So, how are things with you and Sean?"

"Things are good," Nick said. "It was a little rough at first, but we worked through it. It feels almost like an arranged marriage, the way we went about it, but now I think we're friends."

"More than friends, I think," Elizabeth said knowingly as she set a plate of fluffy eggs dotted with fresh chives in front of him.

Nick blushed. He wasn't sure what was prompting him to open up to a _hexenbiest_ , but this particular 'biest was easy to talk to, and she'd helped him get his Grimm back. That counted for a lot in his world. "I—I like Sean. Maybe more than like him. Not sure when that happened, but I can't deny that it did."

"Spending as much time as you have together, you were bound to grow closer," she said. She leaned on the counter across from him, sipping at her coffee as Nick dug into his eggs.

"God, these are amazing," Nick said, shoveling another bite into his mouth. "What did you put in these things?"

"Besides eggs?" Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow. Nick frowned at her, but it lacked heat, and she chuckled. "Sour cream. Just a spoonful, instead of milk. I find it lends a depth of flavor that milk just can't."

"Huh," Nick said. 

"So, have you two decided to consummate the Bond?"

Nick practically choked on his eggs at her words. He gulped a couple of mouthfuls of coffee to wash it down, frowning at Elizabeth as she smiled smugly. He set his fork down and leaned back, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"No, we haven't," he said. Something in his voice must have tipped her off, because she frowned at him.

"You want to, don't you?" At Nick's nod, her frown deepened. "But my son is holding back. Not surprising."

"How so?" Nick asked. 

"Sean had a… difficult childhood, as you know," she began. "Moving around so much, always looking over our shoulders. It's always been difficult for him to trust. Those he does trust have earned his faith in them."

"Are you saying I haven't?" Nick didn't know why that thought burned so much, except that he'd come to trust the Captain, despite their difficult beginning.

"He allowed you to see him at his weakest," Elizabeth said. "You are on a very short list of people he'd allow to do that. I think trust isn't the issue."

"He isn't saying no," Nick said, feeling the need to defend Sean. "He's saying wait. A month. Until he's healed—"

"And until he's sure this isn't because of his injury."

Nick pressed his lips together. "I have the world's worst timing," Nick said, slumping back with a sigh.

"No, you have the world's most stubborn bondmate," Elizabeth said. 

Nick's mouth tipped up in a one-sided smile. "That, too."

"Finish your breakfast, Nick," she said, returning his smile.

He leaned forward and finished off the last couple of bites of egg before she could say anything else that might set off another round of potential-death-by-breakfast.

~o~

"So, what did you and Nick talk about this morning?"

His mother glanced up from the magazine she was reading, the innocent look on her face not fooling him for a moment. He simply stared her down, waiting for her to spill. Not that that tactic had ever worked before, but there was a first time for everything.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and tossed her magazine on the coffee table, turning to face him from her seat at the other end of the couch. Sean had a moment to be surprised that it had actually worked before she spoke and shattered all his illusions.

"Why won't you consummate the Bond?"

Sean sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Mother, as much as I love you, this is none of your business."

His mother stood up and resettled herself beside him, taking his hand. "You're being foolish, denying both of you something you both clearly want."

Sean winced. His mother had always been blunt, so he should have seen this coming.

"You love him, don't you?" Elizabeth asked when he didn't speak.

"I—"

"And don't lie to me," she said. "You know I can always tell."

Sean slumped in his seat. "It wouldn't matter if I did. I don't want him to make this decision under duress."

"Do you think he's someone who doesn't know his own mind?" she asked gently. "Has he ever given you the impression that this—what's between you—isn't something he wants? He chose the Bond, knowing what it would entail. The Bond won't take if you're not in alignment, you know that. Is it so hard to believe that he's come this far?"

Sean didn't— _couldn't_ —answer her. He knew that no amount of coercion could get Nick to do something he didn't want to do. He'd always been stubborn, although he couldn't say who of the two of them was the more stubborn. 

But this… This would be permanent. Irrevocable.

"I can't—I won't rush him into anything," Sean said quietly. "I need him to be sure this is what he wants. For both our sakes."

"And will you believe him when he says it is?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she stood up, leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Just think about it." 

She straightened up and brushed his cheek with her fingers. "I'm going to the Spice Shop. I've offered to coach Rosalee on the finer points of zaubertranke."

Sean nodded absently, barely even noticing when the door closed behind her.

~o~

Sean's mother stayed for a week, splitting her time between doting on Sean—and by extension, Nick—and the Spice Shop. And then one day just announced that she'd be returning home. Wherever home was. She hadn't said, and if Sean knew, he wasn't telling. 

So, they'd driven her to the airport, seen her onto her flight and then gone to dinner. 

Sean's shoulder was mostly healed, just a little lingering stiffness that would eventually go away with a little physical therapy. His doctor was suitably impressed, but considering his miraculous recovery the last time he'd been shot, they'd come to expect no less from the Captain.

It was late by the time they got home. Nick was tired but happy; he'd honestly enjoyed spending time with Elizabeth. She had a razor-sharp wit, and wisdom far beyond her years. And at least now he knew where Sean had gotten his mad cooking skills.

"The house seems empty without her," Nick said as they walked through the front door.

"My mother always did know how to fill a room," Sean said. He shed his jacket onto the couch and perched on the back, hands clasped in his lap. "I think we should talk."

Nick raised an eyebrow as he hung his jacket up in the coat closet. "That sounds ominous. Care to elaborate?"

"Come here," Sean said, holding his hand out. Nick crossed the room, taking Sean's hand and allowing the man to reel him in. "I think I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Nick asked. They hadn't had a fight lately. Hadn't had a fight since this whole thing began, as a matter of fact. That surprised Nick, but he thought maybe it shouldn't have.

Sean pulled Nick between his legs, resting his hands on Nick's hips. "I shut you down when you said you wanted to consummate the Bond. I wasn't listening to what you were saying. I just assumed that it was because I was shot."

"I think I'd been thinking about it for a while," Nick said, resting his hands on Sean's chest, his fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. "I just didn't realize I was until you'd been shot. Suddenly, all that mattered was telling you."

"I do want that, with you," Sean said. Nick's heart leapt in his chest. "It's just that this is a big step, and I wanted to make sure we're doing it for the right reasons."

"I get it, I do," Nick said. "Trust me when I say this is what I want?"

Sean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nick watched as the moonlight played over his skin. When he opened his eyes, they were clear, boring into Nick's, determination lending them a fiery edge.

"Then might I suggest we take this somewhere more comfortable?" Sean asked, a small smirk lifting his lips.

"Not interested in breaking in the couch?" Nick asked.

"Not in high school anymore," Sean said definitively.

"Point taken," Nick said. 

He slid his hand into Sean's and tugged, pulling the man toward the stairs.

~o~

They lay in bed, facing each other, sunlight pouring in from the window. It had been a long night, but instead of feeling tired, Nick felt energized.

The Bond pulsed between them, a living, breathing thing, filling every corner of his being. Their emotions were wide open to each other, washing back and forth as if in a feedback loop. They hadn't tested whether or no they could read each other's thoughts, but there was plenty of time for that. It was enough for now that the Bond was stronger.

And wow, was it stronger. Nick had felt it when his Grimm was returned to him, noticing for perhaps the first time that he felt stronger, faster, more equal to the task than he had as a human.

The Bond blew that away.

They'd have to test it, find out what his new limits were, but already he could sense that he was different. He had a clarity of thought and purpose that was astonishing. If he'd known that this would be the result of bonding—well, he'd probably still have fought it. He was who he was, and even knowing that the effect of the Bond would be positive might not have been enough to change his mind.

Still, he couldn't regret for a moment the road that they'd taken to get here; their partnership was stronger for it. And from the pleased, smug pleasure radiating off of Sean, he could tell the other man felt just the same.

Nick lifted his hand, running his fingers over the slightly stubbly cheek of his bondmate, wonder and amazement thrumming through him.

"Mine," he whispered.

Sean smiled, capturing his hand and pressing a kiss into the palm. "Yours. Always."

~Finis

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, these are the herbs I used in the zaubertrank (the meanings Sean gave are in parentheses):
> 
> Edelweiss: courage and devotion (strength and resiliency),  
> Kawakawa: an anti-bacterial and anti-inflammatory (purity),  
> Orris root, which is the root of the Iris flower, which gives off a fragrance that most resembles Violet (so the definition I'm giving is for Violet): loyalty, devotion, faithfulness (connection) 
> 
> The vow that Nick and Sean recite:  
> License my hands to rove, let them go,  
> Before, behind, between, above, below.  
> O my Kingdom, my home, my new-found-land,  
> My people, guarded by the sword in my hand,  
> My heart and soul's desire, My Empirie,  
> How blest am I to have discovered thee!  
> To enter into this bond, is to be free;  
> Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.  
> (Adapted from the John Donne poem, _To His Mistress Going To Bed_ )
> 
> And for those of you who are curious: the case of the lawyer who died in the conference room at his office was based on a news story that broke in late April, of an Apple employee who died in a conference room at Apple's Cupertino headquarters. That guy is suspected to have committed suicide by shooting himself in the head with a gun. The lawyer in Nick's case was poisoned by his wife; in this case, arsenic poisoning. Arsenic, in large enough doses, will kill you in a very short amount of time. Gruesome and unpleasant. Just the sort of thing a wife would do to the husband who'd cheated on her. Hell hath no fury, and all that.


End file.
